


Under Starlight

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ignoct Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Stolen kisses under the stars





	Under Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> For Day One of [Ignoct Week](https://ignoctweek.tumblr.com/)

For as long as he had known the prince, Ignis knew that Noctis flouted protocol at every opportunity. It had started with the endearing, eager, shake of his hand— where the little prince with wide, shy eyes had grasped his own hand in two smaller ones. It had started with the prince claiming him as a friend with little hesitation, rather than approaching him as he was presented— a future adviser and servant. It came with days of attempting to learn his station— the role he was meant to play— only to be invited to games and lessons and the sorts of adventures that only children could create. And when the prince did deign to follow the rules of his station, it was often with a cheeky smile and the knowledge of a scolding later on. 

They had grown up since, with Noctis running ahead and Ignis trailing behind, fretting at every scraped knee and whining, plaintive “Iggy!” that urged him to follow more closely. They had grown up with the future of the kingdom weighing on them both, reflected in gilded halls and ancient paintings of long-dead kings, but it had been a burden to share, and it landed on Ignis first. He had grown up doing as he had promised, looking after Noctis— Noct— like a brother and friend.

He had remembered the day Noctis had been brought home from Tenebrae so clearly, even as other memories of their childhood faded or ran together— the Citadel halls and rooms all blurring into one, misdavendtures and scoldings and ‘you should know better’s running into peals of infectious laughter from his friend. And outlandish, childish plans and ideas. He remembered the quiet nights, holding his prince, his friend, through nightmares and dreams of fire and pain. He remembered answering questions about what the Nifs would do in the forest haven of Tenebrae— what an Occupation was like, would Luna and Ravus be safe, would they still have a home— as best he could without remembering much of his own life under Niflheim rule. He remembered that it was peaceful, but his parents worried. 

He never had the heart to tell Noct that the Nifs had held Tenebrae for a long time— the sanctuary of the Oracle was only the last place in the kingdom to conquer.

And Ignis remembered watching the stars— a toy projection gifted by some company head to curry favour with the royal family— on the sleepless nights, when Noct curled close to him as he found stories of the constellations. The stars, little pinpricks of light projected across the ceiling, around the room, had served as a nightlight for Noct after the horrors he had seen. Soft and fading, poor imitations for the stars out in the real world and beyond the wall, Noct seemed to only fall asleep to the hazy lights for weeks. Ignis had always thought it was his voice that eased his friend back to sleep during the long nights. 

He let himself believe that. Believe that he had been so important. That he was more than just a servant in the royal household as he had been told. 

But the first time he kissed Noct was still an impulse he had wished he could have quashed before it started. It had just been a chaste thing— a press of lips, of comfort— to Noct’s forehead as he dozed off. It had just been a moment of weakness and confusion, Ignis hadn’t understood when he was eleven. He hadn’t thought much beyond that little, stolen peck, beyond what he wanted at the time. 

Years later, when they were taking shelter in a haven on the outskirts of Lestallum— the city lights a distant orange blur and the glow of the powerplant pulsing over the jagged canyon, a calm reminder that the kingdom still lived in some way— he watched the stars with Noct. They weren’t the projections cobbled together in some warehouse, packaged with a watered down storybook of the myths. They weren’t the stationary images projected against a darkened room, elevated to magic by the imaginations of wounded children. Ignis could look up to these stars, bright and living, and moving across the night sky and name which were long dead novas and which where the crux of the constellations he had studied for Noct’s interest. He could look up and point out a seasonal meteor shower, and smile as Noct watched the streaks of light in awe. 

He could see the boy he had been introduced to years ago; the boy who had asked him for fairytales of Carbuncle and stars. 

And that soft, familiar, want returned. He had ignored it for years, content to stay by Noct’s side. He had pretended it didn’t exist, and could cite protocols that forbid it. He had thought he was over it. 

But Noct was here, and they were far beyond the rules of the royal court of Lucis. They were in a haven, in a fallen kingdom, with nothing left to lose between them. With daemons and dangers lurking in the dark beyond the calming light of the ancient Oracle’s powers.

And Ignis wanted. 

He had thought of all the excuses not to— in the way he hadn’t when he was young. He had thoughts of rumours and talk and the way some otherwise loyal citizens might turn on Noctis. He thought of ways the enemy would use a weakness against the king, and the vulnerability he already was. He thought of the sweetness of the boy he had first been introduced to, and the way that had been buried as time went on, and Noct had seemed to get lost in the expectations of his stations. He thought of everything he had known of Noct, and everything that urged him forward to sneak a moment of comfort, out here, and under the stars. 

It was Noct who smiled at him. Who glanced back to the tent where the soft rumble of Gladio’s voice carried as he talked to Prompto. Who leaned forward as Ignis was still in debate with himself, and stole a kiss.


End file.
